


Post-Credits Scene: Never Meet Your Heroes

by generalzero



Series: A Universe that Almost Existed [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Adopted Character, Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Depression, Double Agents, Dubious Morality, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Lovers, Feels, Forgiveness, Friendship, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Heroes to Villains, Heroism, Hopeful Ending, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Torture, Interrogation, Jewish Character, LGBTQ Character, Loss, Moral Ambiguity, Morally Ambiguous Character, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Past Character Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Psychological Torture, Queer Character, Solitary Confinement, Spies & Secret Agents, Survivor Guilt, Torture, Trauma, Villains to Heroes, but it's worth it, flawed heroes, goddamit i didn't mean to ship these two, look you might cry, more history facts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:53:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21624070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/generalzero/pseuds/generalzero
Summary: …in which the Red Skull meets Agent Phil Coulson.Coda to “Captain America in a Universe that Almost Existed”.
Relationships: Johann Schmidt & Howard Stark, Johann Schmidt & James "Bucky" Barnes, Johann Schmidt & Peggy Carter, Johann Schmidt & Phil Coulson, Johann Schmidt & Steve Rogers, Johann Schmidt/Phil Coulson
Series: A Universe that Almost Existed [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/289019
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	1. Five Manila Envelopes

**Author's Note:**

> I strongly recommend you read my first Captain America fic before reading this one, but if you’re only here for Coulson, here’s the TLDR:
> 
> The Red Skull (Erik Schmidt) is a double agent for the Allies, and Zola is the one who founded HYDRA. Erik and Steve have to work together to defeat HYDRA and eventually become friends. Unfortunately, their fight in the Valkyrie still occurs because Steve wants to return the cube to the Allies, as ordered, while Erik believes the Allies will abuse its power just like HYDRA and wants to destroy it instead. Steve dies, and Erik is the one who wakes up seventy years later and finds out that the war is over and everyone he knows is dead—and that the Allies labeled him a traitor and a war criminal for killing Captain America and stealing the tesseract.
> 
> More notes:
> 
> Yes, the Red Skull is a good guy in this AU, but there will be none of this Hydra/Nazis-are-actually-good fuckery that Marvel comics has been publishing. Especially not now.
> 
> Also, I accidentally changed Schmidt's first name to Erik in the first story and it’s too late to change it even if I wanted to.
> 
> Content Warning: solitary confinement, interrogation, implied/referenced torture, off-screen torture, explicit psychological torture, PTSD, non-consensual body-modification, references to WW2 and related awfulness, survivor’s guilt, depression, referenced suicide, blackmail, swearing. Heed the tags.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own anything that Marvel came up with first and they already have more money than god so there’s no point in suing me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> grammatical edits 12/08/2019

The man in the suit is hard to read. Military background, obviously. Most likely a former intelligence officer, given what Erik has been able to deduce about Fury’s organization. SHIELD, it’s called. Erik doubts that’s what they actually do.

Past that first day Erik has no contact with the outside world; Fury doesn't even try to make up excuses for Erik's detention. At first Erik is accommodating, mostly for the purpose of extracting slivers of intel from the agents Fury sends to question him, but eventually Erik becomes sick of answering the same questions over and over again:

Yes, Erik was loyal to the Allies the whole time.  
Yes, Erik tried to stop Rogers from returning the cube to the Allies.  
No, he did not intend to steal it for Hydra or Hitler.  
No, he did not intend to keep it for himself.  
No, he did not kill Rogers. 

That last one… that’s the only answer Erik feels uncomfortable about. Because it is his fault that Rogers died. And the discomfort of having to repeatedly share the details of Rogers’ death is what pushes Erik over the line from grudging cooperation to stubborn silence.

It doesn’t take long for Fury to become monumentally pissed at Erik’s silence. First, he confiscates all of the books, newspapers, and documentary films he’d allowed Erik to have for educational purposes. There is a lot of catching up to do, and despite hating the fact that he has no way of vetting any of the information Fury gives him--no way of verifying any event past 1944 without relying on media that Fury's organization provides—Erik valued it all immensely. Realistically, the sheer volume of material Fury provided, as well as the lack of inconsistency between texts, suggests that the major events and dates are all true. It’s simply too much for Fury’s organization to have counterfeited purely for Erik’s benefit. But Erik is a spy: he knows there’s more than one way to lie. In this case Erik’s suspicion is that the media Fury provides is not necessarily biased but the selection of information probably is. So losing it is inconvenient but not necessarily distressing.

When Erik fails to crack to this initial punishment, Fury’s next retaliation is to withhold the special drug cocktail his scientists have cooked up to soothe the more obvious side-effects of Erik’s serum. Which is fine with Erik, since he never asked for it anyway, nor asked for the cosmetic surgery they’d imposed before he’d even woken up. Presumably they assumed he’d be grateful for both. But Erik barely recognizes his face in the mirror anymore. It’s almost a relief when the cocktail wears off, prompting the red hue to return to his skin and his face to grow gaunt once more.

With nothing else to do but pace and give disdainful looks to the one-way mirror anytime he hears someone moving behind it, Erik entertains himself by analyzing his observations of Fury and of SHIELD, musing over how long it will take Fury to decide to withhold Erik’s food. He’s the type to do it, Erik is certain. Or maybe Erik’s assessment is too harsh and Fury turn out to be more imaginative. Either way it doesn’t faze Erik. No one can be as imaginative as Zola was.

But instead of withholding food or shattering Erik’s finger joints one at a time, Fury sends in an agent with an implacable expression and a tailored suit that betrays only the slightest bulge where his gun is hidden. He sits down at Erik’s table, setting down several manila envelopes and two large drink containers made of the same fluffy foam material all of Erik’s food is brought in. They smell strongly of coffee, and the exact aroma is oddly familiar to Erik.

“Brazilian Avena burnt roast,” the agent says, gesturing at the coffee. “I was looking through Howard Stark’s old files for more information about you and found a tariff invoice with a note that it was your favorite brew. I imagine it was even more of a hassle getting it during the war than it was finding it now.”

Erik doesn’t reply. His strategy since he stopped cooperating with Fury has been to completely ignore everything said to him. No response, no reaction, no signal that anything they say is of the slightest interest to him. Most of the time it truly isn’t. But Howard… Erik never knew Stark had found the Brazilian coffee specifically for him. Erik manages to keep his expression flat, but he does break eye contact.

Erik doesn’t make a move to sit down across from the agent or take the coffee. Instead he checks the one-way mirror, listening to see if he can guess how many people are watching. Erik can’t make out any sound. Perhaps they’ve found a way to silence the other room. The agent watches Erik mildly and sips his coffee. Erik continues to ignore him. Eventually the coffee in Erik’s cup stops steaming. Stark must have wasted so much money keeping it on hand for the sake of the few days a month Erik was on their side of the front lines. Erik knew then it was a ridiculous luxury, of course, but he’d assumed it was just another one of the luxuries Stark insisted on bringing with him wherever he went. Not one of the gifts he brought for specific people, like artist’s charcoal for Rogers and new lipsticks for Carter. The agent could be lying, but Erik doubts it. If the invoice didn’t have a note attached then there’d be nothing to indicate that Erik had ever even tasted Stark’s coffee.

The agent finally cracks after about two hours of silence. Or that’s what it seems like at first.

“I actually found out quite a lot in the old SSR files,” he says. His tone is impartial and professional. “Details that actually matter, I mean. Not just mission reports.”

Erik ignores him. He leans against the wall across from the mirror, a position that allows Erik to watch the agent’s reflection but forces the man to turn sideways to see Erik. Erik has been on both sides of interrogations before. He knows how to play the game. The agent is obviously aware of this; he doesn’t try to pretend that his motivation for being here is anything other than the obvious, which Erik appreciates. Fury has not once acknowledged that Erik is a highly competent spy, treating him instead like a rookie field agent.

The agent continues. “I found transcripts from several SSR meetings evaluating your loyalty as an undercover operative, all with extensive comments from Agent Margaret Carter.”

Erik doesn’t let on that he’s heard. Carter always told Erik whenever they held those meetings, and always let him know she was in his corner. It doesn’t matter that Erik doesn’t know exactly what she said.

“I also have a rather amusing disciplinary report involving a misappropriated crate of medical ethanol. It has a signed statement from Captain Rogers to the effect that you and Lt. James Barnes had nothing to do with him getting blind drunk and missing a PR engagement."

Erik’s expression doesn’t betray the slightest hint of the bittersweet emotions the memory stirs up. Erik can’t recall exactly what blackmail Barnes used to drag Erik into his self-appointed crusade to find out how much alcohol it takes to get a super-soldier drunk. (Rogers, Erik is certain, had not required any extortion for the simple reason that Rogers was incapable of saying no to Barnes.) Erik does remember being extremely smug about out-drinking Rogers—at least, for the whole twenty minutes he was able to stay conscious after Rogers passed out. Erik’s wished more than once that he could have seen Col. Phillips face when Rogers handed over the blatantly false statement.

The agent continues talking without even waiting for Erik respond.

“Of course, those are just examples of what I found in the general records. The personnel files were much more illuminating. I looked at your file, but it didn’t give me nearly as much information about you as these did.”—The agent reaches out and taps the manila envelopes in front of him.—“If you want to find out who someone really is, you start by finding out what their friends think of them.”

Erik tries not to look at the envelopes. He already memorized them earlier. There are five of them, all unmarked, two of them much thicker than the other three. He can guess whose files they are. There’s only so many people who might have spoken well of him in their own reports. Rogers, Carter, Stark, Barnes, and Phillips.

The agent picks up a thicker envelope and waves it gently. “Captain Rogers had a very high opinion of you.” The man pauses, then adds, “Although apparently not at first.”

Erik casts his eyes downward, away from the mirror, so he doesn’t have to look at the agent or at Rogers’ file. He doesn’t want to hear about—

“At one point he became very insistent that Col. Phillips give you more time to rest. He kept bringing up excuses to keep you at HQ for longer periods rather than send you immediately back to Hydra.” The agent’s tone is still professional, unconcerned. Erik hears the sound of paper rustling as the agent opens the envelope. “There’s a few personal letters from Stark in here, his half of what seems to be a conversation about a trip to New York City. They apparently couldn’t figure out a way to plan something short enough that you wouldn’t be missed by—”

“Stop.” Erik can’t believe this. He can’t believe that this of all things is what will break him. It’s ridiculous, it’s pathetic, but he just can’t handle hearing anymore. Not this soon. Not when it’s his fault Barnes and Rogers are dead. Not when Erik knows how sharply Carter and Stark’s opinions of him must have changed after hearing that he’d done on the Valkyrie.

Erik takes three deep breaths to quell the trembling in his bones, and forces himself to relax. Then he turns to face the agent, crosses his arms, and says coolly, “Why didn’t Fury send you first?”

Erik doesn’t have to explain. He’s been here for more than three weeks without betraying a hint of weakness. This agent has him cracking in less than three hours. The agent betrays a sign of actual personality for the first time: he gives Erik a nod for the implied compliment. Then he says: “Director Fury didn’t send me.”

This is so unexpected and intriguing that Erik is able to finally stop glancing at the envelopes on the table. He settles back into his unaffected, collected mask. “Then who are you?” Erik asks calmly.

“My name is Agent Phillip Jones-Coulson. And I am your ticket out of here.”

Erik raises an eyebrow, and waits for the man to explain.

”Unfortunately, I did expect you to cave slightly sooner, which means I am out of time for today,” the agent says. “I’ll come back next time I can arrange to have Director Fury distracted.”

Erik rolls his eyes as the agent rises from his seat. How convenient. 

Erik doesn’t realize how consistently his eyes are tracking the manila envelopes until the agent gathers them together in a neat pile and picks them up. He gives Erik an infuriatingly knowing look.

“Don’t worry. I’ll bring them with me again next time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those confused about the psychological torture tag: it’s what Coulson is doing to Erik. He’s not the pure wholesome fav you know from canon. Hopefully he’s still a fav, though…


	2. Seventy Years Too Late

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> stylistic edits 12/06/2019  
> grammatical edits 12/08/2019

Agent Coulson returns six days later, and the only reason Erik agrees to speak to him is because he does bring back the files, and Erik doesn’t want to provoke Coulson into reading snatches of them out loud again. Even though Erik desperately wants to read them himself. He hates everything about this.

Although Erik is still skeptical of Coulson’s insistence that his visits are outside of Fury’s knowledge, he has to admit that Coulson is far more interesting than the agents Erik has met before. He’s a handler and a logistics operative, Erik learns, and high enough in SHIELD’s hierarchy to be able to organize his projects with almost no supervision. It’s obvious that Erik is Coulson latest project.

The questions Coulson wants Erik to answer are far more interesting, as well. And far more probing. Why Erik joined the SS, whether Erik had any reservations about playing double agent for the Allies, what techniques Erik used to undermine Zola… Some questions Erik refuses to answer, like when Coulson inquires why the reports in Erik’s own file show such a sharp shift in his opinion of Captain America towards the end of the war. Erik supposes that his refusal is an answer in itself.

Sometimes Coulson lets Erik ask his own questions. Erik refrains from asking anything about the files Coulson brings along with him each time. Instead he asks about SHIELD, about the technology Erik has only seen glimpses of, and about the outside world. Coulson doesn’t answer some of them, and Erik has no idea if he’s lying about the ones he does answer. The only things Erik is certain of are that Coulson knows he’s in control of the situation, and that he has no interest in using that power to pointlessly torture Erik. Though Erik is growing increasingly uncertain about what the actual point of these interrogations is. Coulson has never returned to the offer he made in their first meeting to let Erik go free. Nor does he mention the manila envelopes. He just sits with Erik at his table and they talk for about an hour before Coulson leaves.

At one point Coulson says: "It's theorized your actions delayed the end of the war by a year.” His tone is not accusing. Coulson never indicates he’s making any sort of judgment of Erik, either positive or negative.

"And the end of the world indefinitely, I hoped,” Erik replies dryly. He wonders if this is Coulson’s way of finally asking about the Valkyrie. 

"You took issue with the proposed weaponization of the cube."

"If you'd seen what they did to the Warsaw ghetto with it, you'd disapprove too,” Erik says, bitterness leaking out from under his own unruffled mask. “But of course you got around the set back rather quickly, didn't you? I hear the Cold War was a hell of a ride." The Allies wouldn’t use the cube to make bombs, Rogers had insisted. Erik wonders what Rogers would think about Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

Agent Coulson sips his coffee. “Were you always this cynical?” he asks. 

Erik takes a drink of his own coffee. Coulson has continued bringing the Brazilian Avena, and Erik is not about to pass it up for the sake of pride. Coulson already won that round anyway. “Yes,” Erik says.

//x//

Eventually Coulson does get around to asking about the Valkyrie, but he only asks one question, and it’s not one Erik ever expected anyone would ask of him:

“You held Captain Rogers in high esteem. Your reports mention his integrity and idealism more than once. So why didn’t he agree with you over destroying the cube?”

Erik’s chest tightens. There are so many answers to that question, and none of them are painless. Rogers was young, idealistic, a hero. He trusted everyone and had too much faith in the world. He was stubbornly dedicated to doing what was right no matter the cost. He was everything Erik was not.

After a long moment, Erik sighs. “He thought he was doing the right thing.”

“So did you.”

Erik shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. I didn’t change anything.” The only lasting thing Erik had accomplished was Steve’s death.

“Would you like the chance to?” asks Coulson. His tone has changed slightly, the careful blandness lessening. Erik narrows his eyes, and they narrow further as Coulson explains what he truly wants out of Erik. What Erik has to do if he wants to Coulson to break him out of here.

“You want a personal super-soldier,” Erik snaps when he’s had enough. “Someone who doesn’t answer to Fury, someone to do dirty jobs a regular agent can’t, someone who won’t ask questions because they owe you everything. You really think holding those files hostage will buy you that? You can go to hell.”

Coulson remains un-intimidated by Erik’s venomous tone. “I’m not looking for a lackey. I’m looking someone I can trust when I need a favor. A finite amount of favors.”—Coulson gestures at the envelopes on the table between them. One file for one favor, he’d said.—“You can choose which jobs you accept. After that I won’t ever contact you again if you prefer. I’m trying to make a difference in the world, Captain Schmidt, and I need heroes to do that.”

Erik shakes his head, giving Coulson a bitter smile. “I don’t believe in heroes, Agent Coulson.” Not anymore. Not now that Erik has lost everything that mattered to him. Erik doesn’t have the energy left to believe in anything.

Coulson regards Erik silently for a long time. When he speaks, his voice is thoughtful.

“You know, when I first came in here, I was expecting to meet—”

"Captain America?” Erik snaps. He doesn’t want to hear anymore. Erik is so tired, and for once the ache in his chest is not springing from his bones, and he desperately wants Coulson to leave. He dials up the sarcasm in his tone. “Sorry to disappoint you, but you’re about seventy years too late."

“No,” Coulson says sharply. The break from his neutral mask is jarring. He places a hand on the envelopes between them, leaning forward slightly. “I was expecting to meet the man I found in these files. A clever, competent, resourceful spy. A man willing to weather temptation and torture for the sake of his cause. A man dedicated to doing what is right no matter how high the personal cost. A man who may have lost faith in the world but still tries to change it for the better.”

Erik looks away from Coulson. “You’re seventy years too late for that, too,” Erik tells him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Warsaw Ghetto is the largest of the Jewish ghettos the Nazis established in WW2. From this and other ghettos the Nazis deported Jews to the camps and killing centers. Uprisings in the Warsaw Ghetto in 1943 prompted the government to demolish the whole thing and slaughter the hundreds of thousands of Jews trapped there.
> 
> Hiroshima and Nagasaki were the Japanese cities destroyed by the first and so far only nuclear weapons used in agression (as opposed to during testing/development). The US specifically targeted civilian populations rather than military installations, which lead to the Japanese surrender in August 1945. The use of atomic weapons quite literally changed the course of history, leading to, among other things, the Cold War. Their use remains and ethical controversy. In case my personal opinion isn't evident from Erik's disgust, I think the use of the bombs on civilian populations was despicable, and that nuclear weapons should absolutely not be a thing.


	3. A Gesture of Good Faith

Coulson does not return for a long time. A few weeks, Erik thinks, but he can’t be sure if he’s over- or under-estimating because Fury shuts off the day-night cycle for the lights in Erik’s cell. Which is an unimaginative cliche as far as torture goes but an effective one: Erik has no way to tell how much time is passing, especially since, as predicted, Fury also stops sending Erik food. Erik’s sleep isn’t regular enough for him to count the days that way—too many nightmares. The timing of Fury’s escalation is suspiciously soon after Erik refused Coulson’s offer, which inclines Erik to think the whole thing was a very skillful charade.

Time drags on. All Erik has to do is say the word and the bugs in his cell will report to Fury that he’s ready negotiate. He says nothing, and tries not to think about the fact that he’s lost his chance to read those files.

Finally, Erik decides that it’s likely been just over two weeks: the hunger has progressed to the point that Erik is too dizzy to remain standing for long periods. Or it could be that Erik’s serum is working in his favor, letting him survive longer than the three weeks it takes a human to die of hunger. Then again, the serum has supposedly massively increased Erik’s metabolism, so maybe it’s been even less than two weeks. Erik eventually drops the question: it too difficult to focus on anything long enough to reach a reasonable conclusion about it. Which is inconvenient because it means Erik can’t figure out whether Fury is willing to let him die over this. Not that Erik is holding out for any mercy. He’s already died once. A second time can’t be that hard.

Then Coulson reappears. He has two SHIELD agents with him, one of whom Erik will realize in hindsight is the redheaded nurse he met when he first woke up. In the moment, however, Erik is largely unable to focus on much beyond the fact that Coulson has come to break him out of SHIELD. His frustration at being wrong about Coulson is muted by exhaustion, as is his vengeful satisfaction at seeing Coulson’s brisk, unaffected demeanor replaced by alarm. Or something as close to alarm as Coulson can likely get.

Erik remembers being very abruptly and rudely stabbed by the redhead with a shot of what must have been adrenaline. It allows Erik to stay conscious and reasonably coordinated all the way up until Coulson’s get-away vehicle has left SHIELD far behind; Coulson recovers his professionalism and offers Erik some bullshit apology about an extended mission in Budapest that kept him and his agents away longer than expected. Erik also remembers telling Coulson where he can put his apology, but that is the last thing Erik remembers before waking up, alone, in an impressively secure safe-house: no windows; only one entrance and two one-way exits; floor plan ideal for disguising hidden rooms and defending against intrusion from the entrance while leaving the exits easily accessible. By the looks of things, it’s frequently used, not just by Coulson but also his two agents.

None of them are anywhere around, but their presence is evident: there are sticky notes stuck to various surfaces in three different handwritings.

Erik finds the first note on the door of the room he woke up in. The handwriting is atrocious. “Please forgive Clint and Natasha’s enthusiasm. They’re not used to sharing.”

Enthusiasm is one way to put it. There are notes everywhere, in three different handwritings. A very careful, square script —Erik’s intuition suggests it belongs to the redhead—threatens Erik with death by castration if he touches any of her stuff. It appears that she has labeled every single one of her belongings, from specific books on the shelf in the living room to individual bottles of vodka in the pantry. A squiggly, almost cursive script warns Erik to “stick to your fancy coffee and leave mine the hell alone” and “stay away from my spare bow.” Erik suspects that Coulson’s initial plan to break him out of SHIELD did not include bringing Erik here, and further suspects that Coulson’s two agents were not thrilled about the change in plan.

Coulson’s notes are far more helpful, even if they’re harder to read. There’s a very long note on the kitchen table, on top of electronic device that seems to be a larger cousin of the ones Erik observed Fury’s SHIELD agents using—portable telephones, but according to Coulson they have numerous other uses as well. This device has flip top with a viewing screen on it, and a base that appears to be inspired by a typewriter. No place to put paper though.

“This is a personal computer and phone for you,” explains the note. “Start with the phone: it should be slightly more intuitive to figure out. I’ve put guides on both devices to help you get on your feet and minimize the culture shock you’ll have to deal with. I assumed you would refuse any apartment I set you up with, so I’ve included a tips for acquiring one of your own. I’ve also included instructions for purchasing your own computer and phone for when you have learned enough about the internet to become paranoid that I’m tracking you with these.”

Well that’s reassuring.

Erik ends up spending most of a day examining the computer and the phone until he’s confident he can access the basic functions. But first he finishes exploring the safe-house. The refrigerator is filled with possessive notes from Coulson’s agents, and one note from Coulson explaining that Erik needs to drink one of the set of identical miniature cartons on the shelf every day for two weeks in order to continue recovering from Fury’s abuse in a timely manner. Since Erik is already tiring after only a short period of exploration, he drinks one before moving on. There’s crate in the hallway with another note from Coulson: “This box has a few weeks worth of the medication SHIELD was using to alleviate your serum. I suggest you save it for emergencies and use more traditional camouflage for normal outings.” Erik debates throwing the crate away out of spite, but common sense stops him. He’s going to have to blend in, and disguises are fallible.

The next note appears on a wide, blank patch of wall in the same hallway. “Please refrain from touching the weapons closet when you find it.” Erik eventually does find it, although not behind the blank wall. Coulson evidently has a wry sense of humor. Erik responds in kind by liberating a handgun and leaving Coulson’s note behind in the empty spot.

Last of Coulson’s notes is on the front door: “I will need to use this safe-house on the 29th, so unless you want to talk to me in person, I suggest you leave before then. My phone number is already saved in your phone.”

Erik resigns himself to the fact that he can’t afford to refuse Coulson’s help, for now, but he’s definitely not sticking around to see Coulson. He gets to work preparing himself to leave as soon as possible, although initially Erik loses a good deal of time to lingering exhaustion. By the 26th, Erik has organized an initial cover for himself using the passport and bare-bones false identity Coulson provided; he understands enough about the internet to know that it will take a lot more than buying his own computer to prevent Coulson from tracking his whereabouts; and he has a few ideas about the kind of employment he can arrange in order to stop using on the credit account Coulson got him as soon as possible. Erik calls the woman waiting to give him the keys to the apartment he found in Brooklyn to let her know that he is on his way, and then uses his phone to summon a ride from an informal taxi service. Then he retrieves the computer from the kitchen table to pack it up. It’s the first time Erik has moved it: he is well aware the computer is portable, but the phone is smaller and can do nearly all of the same tasks, so Erik hasn’t seen any reason not to leave it plugged in where it was.

Which is why Erik has never noticed the manila envelope underneath it until now. “A gesture of good faith,” the sticky note on it says.

A sudden weakness in Erik’s knees forces him to sit down. He can’t open it. If he opens it he’ll be implicitly agreeing to Coulson’s deal, setting himself up as the man’s lackey because he can’t resist the temptation of having a pathetic shadow of interaction with the last people Erik had left to lose. Erik hates himself for letting Coulson have this much power over him, and he hates Coulson for being so confident in that power that he can afford to be magnanimous with it. Erik should just leave the file here, unopened. Let the bastard know what Erik thinks of this game.

Erik’s phone chirps at him. His ride is about to arrive at the location two blocks over Erik provided in order to preserve the integrity of Coulson’s safe-house.

Erik packs the manila envelope in his bag with the computer and leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cool psychological fact: humans go crazy if they go too long without being able to tell whether it’s day or night, regardless of how regularly they sleep. Which is why it’s a method of torture to withhold a prisoner’s day-night cycle. On a related note, solitary confinement is also considered torture.
> 
> No, I do not intend to make Erik clueless about technology, for the same reason I don’t subscribe to the cutesy fanon thing where Steve is as hopeless as a boomer in Best Buy: he’s young, resourceful, and adaptable; and this new technology is so far beyond what he’s used to that he’s not held back by any nostalgia for tech that’s only slightly out-dated. (ie. “I refuse to text correctly because I remember the good old days when people actually called each other!”)
> 
> Smart-phones do in fact tend to be slightly more intuitive to learn how to use, particularly if you’re not used to computers either. Smart-phones have always been designed with user-interface in mind, while computers have not. Hence why Erik jumps straight to preferring the phone.


	4. What Your Friends Think of You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is meant to be read as a series of texts.
> 
> Formatting suggestions to improve ease of reading are welcome.
> 
> stylistic edits 01/06/2020

Coulson: Will you please stop changing your phone number? You must know by now that it’s a completely ineffective tactic.  
Schmidt: on the contrary, it’s very effective. it inconveniences you.  
Coulson: You are going to resist this arrangement every step of the way, aren’t you?  
Schmidt: yes.

* * *

Schmidt: you’re deliberately offering me extended assignments, aren’t you?  
Schmidt: all of these are projected to be a month long at least.  
Coulson: I only have five favors. I want to make them count. I’m not wasting you on petty infiltrations and assassinations.  
Schmidt: four favors. you have four favors left. i already have stark’s file.  
Coulson: Stark’s file was not free, it was a pre-payment.  
Schmidt: i should have known you’d pull something like that.  
Schmidt: you are aware you’re a bastard, right?  
Coulson: If you agree to join my team permanently, I’ll give you all the files right now.  
Schmidt: like hell.  
Coulson: Then you’re stuck buying them with favors. Speaking of which, do you ever plan on accepting any of the assignments I offer you?  
Schmidt: you said I could pick and choose.  
Coulson: Then perhaps you could enlighten me as to what assignments you’re likely to choose? What was wrong with the last four? If you’re protesting the length I’m afraid you’ll have to compromise.  
Schmidt: they’re in europe.  
Coulson: And?  
Schmidt: you’re a clever man. think about why I might not want to go to europe.

* * *

Schmidt: Fury must know you were the one who let me out.  
Coulson: Yes.  
Schmidt: and he let you get away with it?  
Coulson: Fury is well aware that I have my own agendas. He also knows that he can’t afford to lose me or my people.  
Schmidt: why do you work for Fury at all? you clearly don’t respect him.  
Coulson: Did you respect your superiors in the SS?  
Schmidt: respect? yes. the competent ones anyway. trust? no. especially not the competent ones.  
Schmidt: that evaluation goes for you, too.  
Coulson: I’m flattered that you find me competent, Captain.

* * *

Coulson: You won't believe it. I found two of them!  
Coulson: I'm going to meet the seller in three weeks!!  
Schmidt: you sound very excited. did you perhaps find two more people to blackmail into your spy team? or are you just buying a couple of warheads?  
Coulson: That was not meant for you…  
Coulson: I’ve never actually sent something to the wrong chat before.  
Coulson: It does seem like a rather suspicious text out of context, doesn't it?  
Coulson: I don't suppose you'll believe me if i say it was about collectible trading cards?  
Schmidt: no.  
Coulson: I'll send you pictures.

Picture received from [The Bastard]  
Picture received from [The Bastard]  
Picture received from [The Bastard]  
Picture received from [The Bastard]  
Picture received from [The Bastard]  
Picture received from [The Bastard]  
Picture received from [The Bastard]  
Picture received from [The Bastard]

Schmidt: enough pictures. i believe you.  
Schmidt: …captain america trading cards? that's a thing now?  
Coulson: Well, “now” is kind of relative. They're vintage. I’ve spent years putting together a mint set. After I pick up these two, I'll only have one left to get.  
Coulson: Yours, actually.  
Schmidt: tell me I am not on a captain america trading card.  
Coulson: do you want to see a picture of it?  
Schmidt: no.

Picture received from [The Bastard]

Schmidt: i said no.  
Coulson: Anyway, it's hard to get hold of that one these days because it wasn't ever very popular.  
Schmidt: i wonder why.  
Coulson: When I finally track one down in good enough condition, I'll probably have to spend several thousand on it. It might even be more expensive than the Howling Commandos series, and those have autographs from all the surviving members.  
Coulson: You know, now that I think about it…  
Schmidt: no.  
Coulson: Come on.  
Schmidt: i’m not signing a trading card.  
Schmidt: why do you even want me to? it’ll destroy the value of your card. nobody will know my name as anything but a random signature.  
Coulson: I would know.  
Schmidt: still no.  
Schmidt: while i have you, why don’t we talk about the file you still haven't sent me? i more than deserve it after three weeks on stakeout with your archer.  
Schmidt: ninety percent of barton's conversation revolves around the latest upgrades he's added to one of his bows. The other ten percent is grumbling about how i stocked the safehouse with my coffee instead of his.  
Coulson: That’s interesting. According to Clint, ninety percent of your vocabulary is variations of "Don't talk to me unless it's about the mission."  
Schmidt: you owe me a file.  
Coulson: Yes, I’ll send it right away. The trading card deal was time sensitive and I let some things slide.  
Schmidt: that doesn't sound like you.  
Coulson: Everyone has a weakness.  
Schmidt: and yours is captain america? a little idealistic for an extortionist, don't you think?  
Coulson: Maybe. Isn’t five glorified scrapbooks is a little sentimental for a superspy?  
Schmidt: fuck you

* * *

Coulson: Care to explain why you never mentioned that the supersoldier serum gave you a nerve condition?  
Schmidt: i assumed you knew.  
Coulson: Your personnel file says you suffered no adverse symptoms past the first thirty days.  
Schmidt: because I took care that it would say so.  
Schmidt: but i meant that i assumed your shield doctors found it while they were rearranging my face  
Coulson: Modern medicine can do many things, but it can't reveal obscure nerve disorders unless we know to look for it.  
Schmidt: is there a cure?  
Coulson: No, unfortunately not.  
Schmidt: then it doesn't matter.  
Coulson: It matters if you get yourself killed because you collapse in the middle of a mission again.  
Schmidt: i finished the job, didn't i? what do you care as long as i can still take orders?  
Coulson: Schmidt, other handlers might have no problem running their agents into the ground, but it isn’t my policy to neglect my people. That includes you.  
Schmidt: how noble.  
Coulson: I’m sending you the contact info for a specialist who can work with you on some of the symptoms. After you and Natasha finish this assignment, give them a call and say I sent you.  
Schmidt: i’ve had enough doctors for a lifetime, thank you.  
Coulson: Don’t test me on this. Ask Natasha what I did last time she refused to go to medical.

* * *

Coulson: Your file says nothing about honey-trap training.  
Schmidt: that's an interesting way to say "thanks for saving the whole mission."  
Schmidt: or maybe you're trying to say "sorry i didn't double check my intel and sent romanoff to seduce a gay man."  
Schmidt: or even "sorry for stranding you in a safehouse with romanoff while she's still pissed that you had to take over her mark for her. here's two files instead of one to make up for it."  
Coulson: The agent responsible has been reprimanded. Thoroughly.  
Schmidt: that doesn't make spending three days with an angry russian who can kill me with her high heels any less terrifying.  
Coulson: I didn't know you found Natasha intimidating, Captain.  
Schmidt: laugh if you want. i have a healthy respect for female agents, as all wise men should.  
Schmidt: and a large part of that respect consists of staying the hell out of their way.  
Coulson: Did Agent Carter perhaps have something to do with that?  
Schmidt: the only thing i want to hear about carter is that you're sending her file as bonus pay.  
Schmidt: how much longer are we going to be here?  
Coulson: I’ll have you two home as soon as I can clear up the problem at the embassy.  
Coulson: Back to my original question: why doesn’t your file any references to honey-trap training?  
Schmidt: i thought we had established that my file is not all-inclusive.  
Schmidt: i don’t actually have any training for it. i just happen to be very adaptable and very queer.  
Schmidt: even then it only worked because the fool thought my accent was exotic. it was a one-off.  
Schmidt: as in, do not expect me to do it again.  
Coulson: Natasha did mention you put on an accent for your cover.  
Coulson: She also mentioned that you haven’t dropped it now that the mission is over.  
Schmidt: it’s not an accent. at least not in the sense that it’s fake. this is what I sounded like before the SS, when I was just learning english out of interest.  
Schmidt: well not quite. it’s been too long since i heard any yiddish. i’ll probably never get that back.  
Schmidt: anyway i realized that there isn’t any reason these days to hide it. i used the cover to test it out.  
Schmidt: you have a problem with it?  
Coulson: Not at all, Captain.  
Coulson: I suppose it never occurred to me that you might have one.  
Schmidt: then it probably hasn’t occurred to you that your idol had one, too.  
Coulson: What are you referring to?  
Schmidt: rogers had an atrocious brooklyn accent. him and barnes both, but the PR people didn’t make barnes scrub his out.  
Coulson: That’s amazing.   
Coulson: Sometimes I can’t comprehend that you actually got to meet him.  
Coulson: To talk with him. Be one of his friends, even.  
Schmidt: honestly you have a bigger crush on him than carter and barnes put together.  
Coulson: Wait  
Coulson: are you saying  
Coulson: the three of them?  
Schmidt: oh no  
Schmidt: if carter took the time to purge that out of the records no way am I going into it.   
Coulson: You can’t just say something like that and then not explain!  
Schmidt: sorry coulson  
Schmidt: i just remembered i have to call that neurologist you told me about.  
Schmidt: bye.  
Coulson: Schmidt!!

* * *

Coulson: You know, Schmidt, I’m beginning to think this line must be compromised. You’ve been almost friendly lately.  
Schmidt: anger gets exhausting after a while.  
Schmidt: don’t worry. i’ll make a note to insult you more often.

* * *

Coulson: Schmidt, you cannot just attack people for shouting slurs on the street.  
Schmidt: yes i can.  
Coulson: I know this is a tender topic for you, but you have to pick your battles.  
Schmidt: skip the euphemisms. they don’t suit you.  
Coulson: Look, I'm not saying it's not a serious issue. I’m saying that you can't solve it by putting a couple of ignorant kids in the hospital.  
Schmidt: they were plenty old enough to know what they were doing.  
Schmidt: and they’ll live.  
Coulson: It was just graffiti.  
Schmidt: and kristallnacht was just a bunch broken windows.

* * *

Schmidt: no  
Schmidt: fuck you actually  
Schmidt: i only have so much about myself that i haven’t compromised and this is where i draw the line. this has always been where i draw the line.  
Schmidt: youre trying to be a hero coulson? take a minute to think about what captain fucking america would think about you excusing nazis because theyre ‘just kids’  
Schmidt: because i know steve rogers wouldnt give you the time of day

* * *

Coulson: I need you to come in right now.  
Schmidt: I’m not talking to you.  
Coulson: I know you’re angry, but this is an emergency.  
Schmidt: what kind of emergency?  
Coulson: I’m sending you the mission details now. I’ll have a quinjet ready for you in forty minutes.  
Schmidt: …sure, let me just drop everything and read it.

  
Attachment received from [The Bastard].

  
Schmidt: no. absolutely not.  
Coulson: Please. I need you on this. I’ve been tracking this woman for years and I’ve finally found a potential lead on her location. She has a meeting with one of her regulars in two days.  
Coulson: I need to know as many details as possible if I want to spring a trap on her.  
Schmidt: get barton or romanoff to do it.  
Coulson: They’re in Budapest right now. Even if they were available, you’re the one I trust to pull this off. This mark won’t be easy to crack.  
Schmidt: i said no.  
Schmidt: this is exactly the kind of assignment i warned you i would not take.  
Coulson: I know.  
Coulson: I wouldn’t ask this of you if it weren’t important. If I get this intel I can burn a million-dollar human trafficking ring to the ground. In twenty-four hours that chance is gone forever.  
Coulson: Schmidt, please.  
Schmidt: fine.  
Schmidt: i’ll do it.  
Schmidt: but i want to make sure i don’t do anything you wouldn’t approve of. after all, this is on your conscience, too.  
Schmidt: so be more specific, Agent Coulson. tell me what you would do in this situation.  
Coulson: The reason I am asking you to do this is because you have skills I don’t.  
Schmidt: oh yes, you are more of a psychological type.  
Schmidt: but there’s no time for that, is there? it has to be quick and brutal.  
Schmidt: the way an old nazi spy would do it. right?  
Schmidt: how long has it been since you got your hands dirty, coulson?  
Coulson: I trust your discretion.  
Schmidt: and if my discretion includes the training I got from the SS? or HYDRA? you read my file. would you be willing to do everything you found in it?  
Coulson: Yes, Schmidt, I would do whatever it takes. There isn’t time for this.  
Schmidt: whatever it takes. that’s such a cliche.  
Schmidt: it’s easy to tell yourself you’d do whatever it takes when you don’t have to think about what that means.  
Schmidt: this man. does he have a wife?  
Coulson: Yes.  
Schmidt: will she be around?  
Coulson: Possibly.  
Schmidt: would you use her?  
Coulson: If there was no other option, yes.  
Schmidt: Does he have kids?  
Coulson: Schmidt.  
Schmidt: answer the question.  
Coulson: No, he does not.  
Schmidt: and if he did? what would you be willing to do?  
Coulson: Enough. I want you on that jet in thirty minutes.

* * *

Schmidt: suicide watch? really?  
Coulson: I was worried about you.  
Schmidt: is that so.  
Coulson: You weren’t answering my calls. You haven’t left your apartment in three weeks. You didn’t even confirm whether you got Carter’s file.  
Schmidt: i got it.  
Schmidt: did your trap work?  
Coulson: Yes.  
Schmidt: congratulations.  
Coulson: I couldn’t have done it without your intel.  
Schmidt: don’t fucking thank me.  
Schmidt: i can’t stand you.  
Schmidt: by the way, if you were worried about my health, you should’ve sent someone else to check on me. barton and romanoff brought along enough vodka to poison all three of us.

* * *

Coulson: Schmidt,  
Coulson: I’m sending you another file. Captain Rogers’ file.  
Coulson: No strings attached.  
Coulson: Let me know when you get it.  
Schmidt: not interested. it's just another manipulation.  
Coulson: It’s an apology.  
Schmidt: really.  
Schmidt: for what exactly?  
Schmidt: after all, you have so many things to apologize for.  
Schmidt: for being a nazi apologist?  
Schmidt: for sending me to torture and murder a thug and his wife?  
Schmidt: for blackmailing me in the first place?  
Coulson: For all of it.  
Schmidt: so why not give me both files for free and leave me alone?  
Coulson: Because I might still need a favor from you one day.  
Schmidt: i thought so.  
Coulson: I won’t contact you again until then. I promise.  
Coulson: I’m sorry.  
Coulson: I’m trying to make things right.  
Schmidt: no, you’re hoping rogers’ file will remind me of all the compassion he had for me and i’ll forgive you.  
Schmidt: or better yet, say that he would.  
Schmidt: go find redemption somewhere else.

* * *

Schmidt: you know what i hate about you?  
Schmidt: it’s not that you know exactly how to play me.  
Coulson: Schmidt?  
Schmidt: it’s that you’re so good at it that you don’t even have to pretend you’re not doing it.  
Coulson: It’s been months. What happened?  
Schmidt: your pity play worked.  
Coulson: What?  
Schmidt: rogers would have given you a second chance. so here it is. one second chance.  
Schmidt: don’t mess it up.  
Coulson: Schmidt…  
Coulson: thank you  
Schmidt: whatever  
Schmidt: let me know when you have an assignment in mind so i can pay for rogers’ file.  
Coulson: No, you don’t have to. I meant it when I said the file was free.  
Schmidt: you’re not really just going to let me have it.  
Coulson: Yes, I am.  
Schmidt: i swear if you turn around and claim i owe you later…  
Coulson: You owe me nothing.  
Schmidt: alright. then send me that card of yours.  
Coulson: What?  
Schmidt: your last trading card. barton said you found it while romanoff and I were in kyoto.  
Coulson: You’re offering to sign it?  
Schmidt: don’t get excited. my motives are purely vengeful. i’m ruining your mint condition deck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah I’m apparently incapable of writing lighthearted shit for Erik. I’m sorry, I swear he’ll get a kick-ass happy ending eventually.
> 
> Honey-trap is a spy term for a mission that primarily consists of seducing the target. A honey-pot is the spy doing the seducing. People generally write the Black Widow (and all female spies honestly) as a honey-pot. Which gets old.
> 
> I was gonna make a note about Erik being queer & Jewish for readers who hadn’t read his original fic, but then I realized that anyone reading this who hasn’t read the first one probably has far larger confusions than wondering why Erik would have grown up speaking Yiddish. So, uh, go read the first fic?
> 
> Yes, I did in fact imply a Steve/Bucky/Peggy threesome. Polyamory is a thing and all three of them are absolute snacks, so…
> 
> November 9-10, 1938 was the date of Kristallnacht, a government sanctioned riot in which Nazi supporters destroyed thousands of Jewish-owned businesses, homes, and schools; and murdered almost a hundred Jews. It’s named “the night of broken glass” in reference to the countless shattered windows littering the streets. Kristallnacht is generally considered a major turning point between “non-violent” anti-semitism, like legislation and harassment, and the actively violent persecution that lead to the Holocaust. In case I’m still being too subtle here: there is no such thing as non-violent white-supremacy. Punch a fucking Nazi.
> 
> And now onto the torture stuff… I really wasn’t kidding about the dubious morality here folks. Both Erik and Coulson have done some fucked up shit for the sake of “the greater good”. I wasn’t explicit because this is rated for teens, and I flatter myself that the effect is still chilling anyway.


	5. Excerpt from the Personnel File of

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are some of the torturously touching things Erik finds in the files Coulson compiled to blackmail him. The excerpts are listed in the order Erik recieves the files, not by date.

HOWARD STARK [personal messages between SHIELD founders Howard Stark and Col. Chester Phillips, March 1948]

Sender: Col. Phillips  
Recipient: Howard Stark  
For god’s sake come back to headquarters already. This is getting out of hand. You can’t just help found an international intelligence organization and then abandon it for the sake of a wild goose chase. We have another damned funding meeting with the UN Security Council in three weeks and you’re leaving Carter and I to do all the work preparing for it.

Sender: Howard Stark  
Recipient: Col. Phillips  
As a founder of the organization, I can do whatever I like. I’m only ever gone a few weeks at a time, and I’m spending my own funds on the expeditions. So it’s really none of your concern, is it? Barring any unexpected leads, I expect to return on the 7th. Plenty of time to prepare for the meeting with the Security Council. And don’t act like Carter disapproves of these expeditions.

Sender: Col. Phillips  
Recipient: Howard Stark  
Barring unexpected leads? It’s been four years. What exactly are you hoping to find at this point? A downed plane and a couple of corpses?

Sender: Howard Stark  
Recipient: Col. Phillips  
Closure, Phillips. I have two friends MIA and I’m hoping for closure.

* * *

LIEUTENANT JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES [official reprimands logged with SSR command, circa 1943-1944]

Before the US 107th was captured by HYDRA, Lt. Barnes was a competent and dedicated soldier, but not heroically so. The only noteworthy remark in Barnes’ file up to that point was that he was a natural morale booster. Barnes had a particular knack of finding whomever amongst his comrades was under the most stress and focusing his charisma on them until they recovered.

After the US 107th was rescued from HYDRA, Barnes continued to be a competent and dedicated soldier. However, as second-in-command of Captain America’s new strike team, the Howling Commandos, Barnes’ best traits were magnified to a heroic status. Lt. Barnes was courageous against all odds, collected under pressure, and steadfast in his loyalty.

He was also an unholy menace who was responsible for at least half of all the mischief that went on at SSR headquarters. Lt. Barnes had more reprimands logged in his file than the rest of the infamously boisterous Howling Commandos combined. More even than Captain America, who had a frustrating habit of ignoring any order he disagreed with on moral grounds. The only person Barnes could not outpace was Captain Schmidt, who had fewer actual infractions but far more official reprimands as a result of his persistent practice of avoiding punishment by simply crossing back over enemy lines.

A few months after the implementation of the Captain America vs. the Red Skull charade, this trend changed. On paper, Lt. Barnes’ infractions essentially ceased, while Captain Schmidt’s drastically increased. Off the record, however, it was common knowledge that Barnes had somehow managed to charm the surly, sullen Schmidt into taking credit for all of Barnes’ shenanigans whenever they were both at HQ—or even, shockingly, participating in some of them. An idea was proposed to curb the resulting chaos by arranging for the two men to never be on base simultaneously, but it was never implemented. Instead, a comment was made in Lt. Barnes’ file, appended to the note about his morale-boosting techniques, to the effect that however frustrating his mischief was, it was doing wonders to soothe the stress of his comrades—especially the now considerably-less-surly Captain Schmidt.

* * *

AGENT MARGARET CARTER [sealed testimony from the postmortem trial of HYDRA officer Erik Schmidt; Nuremberg, January 1946]

Prosecutor: Robert H. Jackson, USA, Associate Justice  
Witness: Margaret Carter, UK, SSR Senior Intelligence Agent

CARTER: No matter how many different ways you frame the question, my answer will not change. I’ve given you the truth. It’s not my fault if you refuse to accept it.

JACKSON: What you’ve given us, ma’am, is speculation and sentimentality. The Court is not asking for your judgment on Captain Schmidt’s innocence or guilt. You are merely a witness to his conduct as a spy.

CARTER: His conduct as both an officer and an agent is beyond reproach, as I have said multiple times. You’ve asked me over and over if I recall any incident or evidence that would suggest Captain Schmidt was not loyal to the Allies. I’ve told recall no such thing. But you keep asking because that’s not the testimony you were hoping to hear. You didn’t call me here as a legitimate officer whose testimony you intended to evaluate with professionalism and respect. You called me as a woman rumored to be involved with Captain Rogers, who would no doubt jump at the chance to give a weepy, melodramatic condemnation of his supposed murderer. And I would not be surprised in the slightest if you are now considering the idea that I was involved with Captain Schmidt instead and am in hopeless, hysterical denial of his treachery. Am I on the mark, gentlemen?

JACKSON: Agent Carter, the Court has every intention of evaluating your testimony impartially and respectfully. We are not trying to prompt you into delivering a specific narrative. But you must admit that it is impossible for to you to make absolute claims about what occurred after the last report from the Valkyrie.

CARTER: It’s true, yes, that neither I nor anyone else can tell you exactly what happened. But I know what did not happen. Erik Schmidt absolutely did not kill Steve Rogers and steal the cube for HYDRA. He would rather have died than serve HYDRA or the Nazis. His actions while I knew him proved that beyond a shadow of doubt. Captain Schmidt was every bit as loyal as Captain Rogers, and had the same stubborn integrity. To be quite honest, Rogers himself was never tested to the extremes that Schmidt was.

JACKSON: Surely you don’t mean to suggest that Captain America was the traitor instead?

CARTER: No. I’m saying that Rogers was a soldier for two years and Schmidt was a deep-cover agent for five. You have access to Schmidt’s reports, and the SSR’s medical records. Do I really need to spell out the kinds of things Schmidt endured, repeatedly, to maintain his cover?

JACKSON: No, Agent Carter, you do not. Everyone here has become far too well acquainted with what HYDRA and the Nazis were doing behind closed doors.

CARTER: I thought not. Erik Schmidt was a hero, Justice Jackson, and you’re wasting your time trialing him when you could be tracking down monsters like Arnim Zola and Adolf Eichmann in Argentina.

* * *

CAPTAIN STEVE ROGERS [personal sketches, circa 1943-1944]

Captain America might have been a paragon of American ideals and righteousness, but he had a terrible habit of doodling on his reports.

To be fair, there wasn’t much spare paper to be had in wartime, especially on the front lines. And as far as stress relief went, a few documents made nearly illegible by elaborate doodles was far less of a headache than the shenanigans Lt. Barnes got up to while off-duty. So the brass didn’t mention the absent-minded sketches that appeared on nearly every piece of paper Rogers got his hands on, even when their content occasionally raised eyebrows.

Nearly all of the sketches are figure drawings, and most of those are of Agent Carter and Lt. Barnes. Despite the less-than ideal materials used, the portraits display considerable skill. The subjects are clearly recognizable and vibrantly life-like: capturing details like the particular curve of someone’s lips when they laugh, or the way their brow quirks just-so in response to bullshit. Even the roughest of them are captivating.

After the war, most of Steve Rogers’ personal belongings found themselves gradually scattering as individual items fell into revering, opportunistic, or ignorant hands and were passed on until their origins were lost to time. What remains lives within the homes of surviving comrades, personal collections, or the Smithsonian. There is also a SHIELD deep storage unit for materials relevant to Captain America that mostly just holds old war records.

Many of the documents in the manila envelope Coulson compiles for Erik reference him by name. But some of them only feature Erik’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anyone cry. I cried a little, not gonna lie.
> 
> So this fic is less of a one-shot than a post-credits “scene” should be—it’s almost as long as Erik’s original fic. but like, more fic is better than less fic.
> 
> I realize there are five files and only four are listed here. But Erik has not yet received the last one, and he will not until the conclusion of his arc in the series’ finale (the Avengers). So the contents will remain a mystery for now. I’ll give you a hint though: it’s not Col. Phillips’ file.
> 
> Also, god forgive me but I may possibly have accidentally started shipping Coulson and Erik. I didn’t mean to, and damn if it isn’t wreaking havoc on my outlines for future installments, but I didn’t realize I was approaching the OTP event horizon until it was too late. Anyway, this fic can be considered gen or pre-relationship depending on your taste and ability to read into things, but from here on out you can expect slow-burn hints scattered in different places.
> 
> Time for more history notes! All of these pertain to Peggy’s excerpt.
> 
> The Nuremberg trials—I know I usually paraphrase things for yall but the Wikipedia summary is pretty short and simple: “The Nuremberg trials were a series of military tribunals held after World War II by the Allied forces under international law and the laws of war. The trials were most notable for the prosecution of prominent members of the political, military, judicial, and economic leadership of Nazi Germany, who planned, carried out, or otherwise participated in the Holocaust and other war crimes. The trials were held in Nuremberg, Germany, and their decisions marked a turning point between classical and contemporary international law.” One of the prosecutors during the trials was American Associate Justice Robert H. Jackson, who I indiscriminately co-opted to be part of fictional court transcript.
> 
> In my universe, HYDRA leadership was included in the Nuremberg trials. In real-life, several of the war criminals were trialed “in absentia” (without their physical presence) for various reasons, but I don’t think anyone was trialed posthumously as Erik was. For the sake of drama, I decided that Zola escaped to Argentina after the war, as did many real-life Nazis (including Adolf Eichmann, who I name-dropped before in Erik’s first story. I mention him again in part because he’s convenient but also because I continue to find his story both grimly fascinating and alarming). As a result, the Allies decided to satisfy their need for a public condemnation of HYDRA’s war crimes by convicting the far more widely known Red Skull, especially since after the Valkyrie Erik’s loyalty was already suspect. TLDR: Zola escaped and the Allies needed someone to blame for HYDRA, so they chose Erik the sketchy double agent who was conveniently dead and unable to defend himself from being convicted of war crimes.


End file.
